


step into my fractured fairy tale (it is magical but dark as well)

by Lilsciencequeen



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5.22 refs, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode 6 Spec, F/M, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Possessive Behavior, but it has a happy ending, mental health refs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 03:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19309999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilsciencequeen/pseuds/Lilsciencequeen
Summary: He woke up, tied to a chair and his heart pounding in his chest. Jemma, the version of Jemma they had created in this hellscape of a reality, had captured him, taking him prisoner. Taken him for her own, and it terrified her because this… This version of her was an embodiment of her worst fears, all the traumas she had been through, and all the times that she had lost him.// A fic in which mind prison!Jemma kidnaps our Fitz.





	step into my fractured fairy tale (it is magical but dark as well)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on AGL03's idea of there being a nightmare!Jemma in the mind prison, based on the traumas she's been through and I just kinda ran with it. Hope you enjoy!

He woke up, tied to a chair and his heart pounding in his chest. Jemma, the version of Jemma they had created in this hellscape of a reality, had captured him, taking him prisoner. Taken him for her own, and it terrified her because this… This version of her was an embodiment of her worst fears, all the traumas she had been through, and all the times that she had lost him.

And that had changed her.

It had made her paranoid and dangerous, a shell of herself where all she knew was losing him again and again and again. When Jemma had seen her earlier, when they had managed to escape her the first time, she had said that she knew what had caused this to happen, explaining the pain and the hurt all the separations had caused this. From Hydra to Maveth, from the Framework to Kasius. And his death. She had explained it all. Telling him everything that had happened since they had last seen each other in the dinner.

And she also told him that there were some days she had felt this bad, days that she struggled, felt like everything was over for her. But she had opened up, talked about what had happened to Daisy, the team so that she wasn’t bottling it up to herself.  She didn’t become like this. After everything, his death especially, she had went out, asked for help, and not become her worst fears.

Hadn’t become the one in the very room with him.

And this version, she had taken him from her, his Jemma, the real Jemma, leaving her in another part of the simulation alone. Breaking through different simulations had knocked him out, rendered him unconscious and between them and now, she must have tied him to the chair, wanting to keep him here, to herself.

In fact, she was busying herself in the corner of the room, her back to him doing… something. She was muttering to herself, her movements jagged and twitchy. Taking a breath as quietly as he could, he looked around the room, trying to take in his surroundings. They were in a kitchen of some description, but the room was dark, and the battered curtains were drawn so he couldn’t even look outside, but as he looked around he must have leaned to far too one side as the chair squeaked and the other Jemma (someone he was now dubbing Non-Jemma, not the most original but the best thing he could do whilst being held hostage) froze, and then spun, the action jerky, and reminding him of a villain from a horror film.

“Are you trying to leave?” Her head tilted to the side, a horrifically curious move, as she took slow steps towards him. “Are you trying to leave me? Again?” Her voice rose at the end of the sentence, higher and higher, as if she were angry, annoyed and trying to hide it. About to let go of her anger but trying to hold it in for a bit longer.

He shook his head, leaning back in his chair trying to put as much distance between her and himself as he possibly could. Because as much as he hated to admit it, she terrified him. There was just something about her that made his skin squirm. He wasn’t sure if it was the way that she spoke, the way that she moved or just how possessive she was, but he was terrified. “No no no no no no no. I’m not trying to leave you. I would never leave you. Not again.”

“Then what were you doing? What were you doing Fitz?” Her breathing was growing more and more rapid and they had already seen what it was like when she lost her temper, just how violent and unpredictable she could be. He didn’t want to get on the wrong side of that because he dreaded what further steps she would take to ensure that he remained here with her.

“I just… I was trying to get comfortable. Being tied to a chair… it’s…” his mind rushed through dozens of excuses until he settled on the one thing he knew could get him out of this position. “It’s hurting me. My arms, they’re sore.”

Non-Jemma’s face softened at what he had just said, as if this was the first time she had considered that maybe she had went too far, had hurt him. The one thing that she _didn’t_ want to do. “I’m sorry.” The word had meaning, as if she were really sorry, and she knelt down beside him, untying him from the chair, allowing him to stand. “I didn’t meant to hurt you… I didn’t… I didn’t want to hurt you. Please I just… I don’t want to hurt you.

He nodded, smiling at her because playing her game until he worked out how to get out of here was the best thing he could do. “I forgive you, okay?” He took her outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze. “I forgive you.”

“And you won’t leave? I have something for you and I…” Her gaze drifted to the table and chairs dominating the middle of the room, as if she wanted him to go there and he knew that he couldn’t disagree. He didn’t even have time to say anything before she was leading him across the room, a slight bound in her step. She seemed so excited to have him here, with her, and it terrified him more than it should have, just what had happened that led to this version of Jemma.

“I promise,” he stuttered, rubbing at his wrists and taking a place at the table, his eyes following her to her place back at the counter. Now that he was closer to where she was, he had a better look at what she was doing, and he saw that she seemed to be making something, putting something on a plate… she was making him a sandwich. She was making him food.

It only took her a couple more minutes to finish what she was making before she brought it over to him and set it down in front of him. “I made you something,” she told him, looking more than a bit pleased with herself as she took her own seat across from him, her gaze never once leaving him.

It was his sandwich. The one that he loved, the one Jemma made perfectly, and taking a bite, then another, he found that this one was no different, except it wasn’t as nice. The bread stale, the mozzarella sticky and heavy in his mouth.

“Do you like it?” she asked, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hands. She seemed fascinated by him, as if he shouldn’t be sitting here but he was. “I knew it was your favourite and I want… I want to make you happy.”

He swallowed what he had in his mouth, the bread somewhat painful as it went down. “I do. I do love it.” Giving an uneasy smile, he met her eyes, wide and somewhat manic. “Thank you.”

She leaned in closer, the remnants of the gold pain on her forehead glistening in the low light. “I was thinking we could watch a film afterwards. Maybe one of those new horror ones. I knew there were some you had mentioned that you wanted to see.”

“Yeah, yeah we can do that.” He could do nothing _but_ agree and hope that Jemma had a plan to rescue him.

She smiled at him, as if this was all that she ever wanted.

***

It was only an hour later that he found himself sitting on the sofa, tense and anxious, with Non-Jemma resting her head on his chest and holding onto his hand. She seemed at peace, as if nothing could ruin this but…

There were footsteps echoing in the kitchen, and Non-Jemma paused the television, looking towards the sound of disturbance, the source making herself clear in only seconds.

“Jemma?” he called out, standing up making his way across the room to see her. But she didn’t make it anywhere near her before Non-Jemma was on her feet, separating the two of them. “You’re here… you’re here…”

“No!” Non-Jemma all but screamed, pushing him behind her so that Jemma, _his_ Jemma didn’t get to him. “No. No! You can’t have him. You can’t… You just… you’d lose him again and again and again. You can’t… I can have him, I can protect him. I can keep him safe.”

“But that’s not healthy. Keeping it all in, locking it all up, and keeping Fitz to yourself. This isn’t a relationship. This isn’t love. This is obsession, this is possession. Keeping him trapped here, it’s not right.” She swallowed hard and closed the distance between them. “I’m you. So, I know what you’re thinking, what you’re hiding…”

“So, you know that I’m better for Fitz. That I can keep him safe. Away from harm. Away from danger.”

“I do. And I know that you want to, that _I_ want to, but that’s not going to work, not really. And you know that. You’re my deepest fears, my worries personified. What I could have become had I not talked to the team, to Daisy. And these fears, these worries, they’ll always be a part of me. I’ll always have lost Fitz, always have gone through unthinkable traumas, and that’s okay. They’re a part of me, just like everything else that has happened to me, just like everything else will be. And… I’m not… I’m not defined by them, defined by you. You are me, but I’m not you.” She was shaking, sobbing by the time she had finished her speech, the fight from her gone after she admitted that she had suffered, that she wasn’t always okay but that was okay.

And the other version of Jemma was gone too, no longer standing between them, separating them.

“Jemma…” he breathed, crossing the distance and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close.

“I just… it’s me… I thought…” she swallowed hard, sinking into his embrace, allowing his scent to fill her nostrils, to overwhelm her. “I thought if I explained that, said how that that trauma, that pain, it will always be a part of me but won’t define me, that she would go away. Defeating her was never going to be the thing that got rid of her but acceptance. Acceptance that I have loved and lost and suffered and that those experiences, they’re always going to be here but I don’t need to hide them and let them build and build, I take then as they come and if they’re too much… I talk to someone. It just made sense that would work but it hurts Fitz. It really hurts sometimes.”

He had no words except to hold her close because even though he knew he died, even though he knew the paradox that led to him standing here, he didn’t know exactly what had happened to Jemma, just what she had been through but he knew that just being here, holding her, it would be all she wanted and more. There would be time for discussions later, but now, now was the time for just supporting her.

“What was that?” he asked her after she mumbled some words which where lost to the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t want you to think you’re a replacement. Someone to have after losing my husband. Because…” she pulled back and looked up at him. “You’re still him. You’re still Fitz. You’re still the one that I love, the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Taking a second to digest her words, to take in what she had said, he saw that there were tears clinging to her lashes as if this were causing her pain. As if she wanted to be here with him, more than anything else, but it was also like she felt bad that she was doing this, that she felt as if she were a bad person for choosing him after losing her husband.

But he wasn’t mad.

He understood, because if he had been in her position, he would have done the same. Would have done anything for a second chance with her, and she had that chance. A do-over. Why should she have thrown it away?

“I’m not him…” he began cautiously, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “And I’ll never be him. The man that rescued you from slavery, the man that married you that day in the Lighthouse with rings our grandson chose. And I won’t be the man that you lost, the one that was killed that day. But that’s… that’s okay. It’s just… he’s him and I’m me. And having a second chance at this? A second chance at life together? At marriage? I want it. I want this. I want _you_.”

“Marriage?” The words from her were a shocked whispered confession. “You want that? Now? A life together?”

He nodded. “I do. I want this. I want _us._ ”

“I just… I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking but full of strength at the same time. “I love you so much Fitz.”

“I love you too. Let’s get out of here.” A kiss broke up his sentence his promise, one that was long and deep and tender, and full of hope and promise. A vow. “And get married.”


End file.
